


Out of the Rain...

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1980s, Affection, Affectionate Insults, Angry Roger Taylor (Queen), Anonymity, BAMF John, Bad Weather, Ballroom Dancing, Band Fic, Banter, Bars and Pubs, Beer, Best Friends, Brian is always a bit pensive, Brian is so done, Dancing, Dancing and Singing, Declarations Of Love, Drinking & Talking, Drunkenness, Fights, Fluff and Humor, Formerly Anonymous, Freddie Mercury is a sweetheart, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hot Space Era, Humor, I mean Rog and Freddie are together so what do you expect?, Innuendo, Introspection, Minor John Deacon/Veronica Tetzlaff, Movie Reference, Naughtiness, Or right before the Hot Space Era more like, Pizza, Power Outage, Rush (Band) References, Shy John Deacon, Smoking, Song Lyrics, Swearing, Sweet John, Thunderstorms, Vegetables, Vegetarians & Vegans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24078316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: It's raining, again. Downright pissing down. Big shock in England, of course. (Not.)It's raining, they've all been in or just gotten back to the flat in varying degrees of grouchiness, oh and they also need food. Especially since there was meant to be a gig tonight, but it got cancelled for fuck knows what reason-- they can play in the rain, who cares? Apparently someone does.It's late, though not too late yet and there's nothing more on the table for the remainder of the night, so what are they going to do?(Or, the members of Queen learn a bit about themselves when they haven't got a gig during a rainstorm)
Relationships: Brian May & Freddie Mercury, Brian May & Roger Taylor, Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, John Deacon & Brian May, John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, John Deacon & Freddie Mercury, John Deacon & Roger Taylor
Comments: 24
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

Roger comes in swearing.

Seems he's often, if not always, swearing; Brian's known that since knowing him, and his dark head rises to see Roger's bouncing blond one, mussed into spikes as Rog roughs his own hair up with a hand before shrugging out of his fluffy coat and flinging it across the counter in a single fluid movement. Cigarette end glowing red, orange, and gold as he puffs the last of it and then flings up the window to waft out the smoke. 

Still swearing.

A chill wind blows in with the scent of rain -- in London, everywhere in England, one gets used to the smell of rain, storms are always imminent.

It's only different when the sort of storm is a level high enough to warrant the loss of a paying gig.

The sky is hanging low and ominous, clouds lumpy and grey as the smoke from Roger's cig. Brian's curls whip and whirl across his face as the wind picks up and blows in gusts through the flat, sending papers flying. 

Roger swears more violently now, slamming down the window and spinning on his heel with a "Wind's kicking off, apparently just what our bloody gig ISN'T doing!" Stalking back towards the counter from the window, Roger snatches up his coat and lets it fly in frustration. Slides across the tile to puddle at John's feet.

Stumbling, the soft brown locks of the bassist lurch forward as his body does, and Brian is up and throwing out a hand to grasp Deaks by the forearm.

"Fucking hell, Roger, watch what you're doing, you could've toppled John!"

"...Okay, well, I'm fine, Brian," John's face lifts and he steadies himself with strong legs braced and spread. His whole face crinkles as he smiles at the tall curly-headed man. "Thank you."

"We cannot have anyone fall, excellent catch there, darlings," Freddie breezes in from the adjoining room, rolling a wrist and dramatically shuddering. "If there ended up being any blood, I dunno that we could make a case for sueing the management, Blondie." Twinkling brown eyes catch furious blue ones and a strong arm wraps around Roger's shoulders. "Now, what's all this about our gig?" He asks.

Roger huffs, glowering at Brian even as his features soften a bit looking at Deacy. But then he turns sharply to stare at Fred. "Fucking gig is off tonight, Fred. Weather reports always get it wrong, but the manager catches me when I'm going by just now, t'see about sound and the like, and he says we oughta pack it up and plan not to come --apparently the fucking trees bowing double convinced 'im. Said there could be tornadoes. Now I ask you," Roger jabs a finger around at each of the others in turn, helpless fury sputtering from his lips. "I ask you when's the last damn time London experienced a bloody _fucking_ tornado?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves!
> 
> This was an odd little bit of inspiration, in which I wondered what the Queen lads would do during a storm. Coupled with my own sojourn to a local pizza parlour a few nights ago, this first bit has practically written itself. Not sure how long it's going to be, but I hope you'll enjoy it.
> 
> Comments always appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

John and Brian share a glance, eyes fondly crinkled as a twitch of the lips graces the former face, while the latter's brow wrinkles and his thin lips purse.

Jabbing his finger with force at Brian, Roger snaps "And I'm sure you know exactly when this shite last happened, Brian, but I don't want to hear it, so shut the fuck up."

"What I have to say," intones Freddie as he glides back over to Roger, having gone into the kitchen proper "...is, we haven't any food in, dears. Whose task was it to go to shop last?"

Again John and Brian glance at each other, and then at Roger this time as well. The blond man raises his eyebrows and jerks forward, bright teeth clenched. 

"Rog--"

"What? For Christ's sake, Bri--"

"Now now, let's not fret or fight," soothes Freddie, his arms going out to Roger and Brian both. "There's always the option to go out."

"...You honestly want take-away in this weather, Fred?" The wind has picked up and a sound like the rapping of thousands of tiny rocks chucked at roofs and windows showcases the downpour of rain that has just begun.

One fist resting on his hip and head cocked, Freddie retorts "We still have to eat something, I don't want to be forced into a jabs-only diet when not on tour. That would be absolutely ghastly."

Brian winces at the thought of needles, and John nods emphatically and empathetically, hand gently touching knobbly elbow of the other man, still standing beside him.

"Where we going to eat then?" Demands Roger. "I'm absolutely fucking starving."

"There's always fish," John suggests.

"Right, but eugh I really could go for pub food and a pint," Roger groans.

John appears interested in that. "Not too far from here, is it?" He asks.

"There's that pizza parlour with a bar you often go to, John, but d'you really think we can get Roger back out into the gale after the way he's been carrying on?" Brian quips drily.

John giggles.

With a sharp bark of sound the blond flicks his tongue at Brian and haughtily flips his coat into the air, catching it before bending and facing his posterior at his friend. "If I get food and booze out of it, I can handle any shitty situation mother nature throws!" Tossing his head back and sliding into his jacket with a jerk of the shoulders, "Let's go!" Roger crows.

With great presence of mind in all the shuffling as they make to leave, John finds some extra garbage bags and cuts some holes in them to create makeshift parkas "As we don't want to use any of Freddie's cloth, like silk -- erm the colour will bleed out in the rain, most like"

"And we have just the one umbrella, here, get it down--"

"We may want to keep it up, here Bri, you're the tallest, hold on to this for us."

"You're a regular behemoth, my dear; a gentle giant, if you will." With a smile and press of the hand after grabbing billfolds and ensuring at least one of them has a set of keys, Freddie pulls open the door of their flat and after John finishes locking it, all clatter down to the ground floor. 

The wind and rain are at driving force now, and the four men catch their breath, preparing to go out. "I'll be buggered. Ready, Freddie?"

With a beaming almost feral grin, Freddie says "Let's fucking do it, darling," and with a whooping yell, the flat building door flies open as four men lower their heads and run for all they're worth out into the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * jabs = during the 1977 tour in particular, Freddie stated in an interview that he used jabs, which are injections of usually vitamin B12, to boost one's immune system and help with energy, etc when on the road touring doesn't always afford ample times to eat.
> 
> *"Let's fucking do it, darling" = this was appropriate for the scene and apparently also what Freddie said upon the suggestion that he, Roger, and Brian become a band. I love it
> 
> Do they even know the way to this pub/pizza parlour? Who knows, only time will tell
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

The driving force of rain is a shock to the system, like icy daggers or literal icicles stabbing into their bodies. Brian hunches, hand clutching convulsively round the umbrella as he shoots out his arm to cover his mates. Roger gasps something, likely another curse, and gathers his body together in the bag John gave him. 

Freddie does the same, arms cloaked like wings, shouting over the wind "Which way to come out of this deluge, darlings?"

"I've no fucking idea," Roger's high tone cracks. The volume level is nearly lost in the roaring elements, and Brian has to resist the urge to curl his free hand around Roger's back and just pull him close. He blinks, raindrops collecting on his lashes, and his trousers stick to his legs as the wind drives water sideways. "Oh bloody hell!" A vehicle comes out of nowhere, slicing through standing water on the road, headlights a smear like the white of an egg in a pan in the dark, barely visible in the downpour.

Brian shakes soggy hair out of his eyes and then feels a warm hand around his wrist, tugging at him. It's John, eyes squinted almost to slits, opposite hand tented over top of them so water runs down the sides of his face in rivulets, though he'd ducked close to Brian so the umbrella does a bit of work --only a wee bit, as the wind has other ideas. "Come on," the bassist says. "Freddie, get Roger." He sets off following his nose, Roger cracks as he grabs Brian's opposite side when the tallest moves beside him, thin frame against Roger's stouter one, and even in this weather Rog feels warm. 

Freddie does too as he comes to John's other side and strokes the bassist's cheek in affection. His words are lost to the others in the rain, but are surely an endearment of the singer's typically effusive and adoring kind. 

John ducks his face and flushes but keeps going, leading them on; Roger dancing in his way out of the paths of puddles, slamming into Brian, whose hair is acting as a showerhead, freezing drops cascading off the curls. But he feels Roger's warmth beside him and Freddie's moving on whilst John, dear young determined John, finds his way along the avenue and down a side street to eventually cross a patio practically invisible in the storm. "Mind your feet," he says as he reaches and and pushes open a deeply weathered, obviously heavy oaken door to get the four of them out of the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something tells me John Deacon would be the sort to know what he was about with directions even in pouring rain, and thus, whew! He delivered! 
> 
> I need to work on locating and including more words synonymous with "cold", but do let me know what you think :)


	4. Chapter 4

Warmth hits them, along with a smell of spice, garlic and oregano and the tangs of cheese and red sauce that are synonymous with any pizza parlour. A jovial voice sounds from the back "Hey! Well look what the cat dragged in, if it isn't lil Johnny Deacon --and you brought friends this time! Didn't know ya had it in you, my man!"

"Hullo Anthony,, yes, well, I did." John smiles, shaking out his hair as Roger looks at the other with eyes narrowed and then bulging, ready to lunge at this bloke who is cracking on his Deacy, but the arsehole is standing casually behind two counters, greasing down a big round pizza pan, and Brian's shaking hand on Roger's shoulder dissuades him. That, and John is laughing. 

Freddie blows a kiss to the man and calls "Our dearest Deacy only just divulged the location of this place, surely that means your establishment is so wonderful he wanted to keep it to himself."

"Hear hear, I'll take it, and I'll take you all as customers now you're here!" The man crows, slicked-back hair and bright teeth shining in the light as he moves closer to them. "I'm Anthony, welcome to Ve's. This is my place. Best flash-pan Etruscan pizza, real ingredients --yeah I said Etruscan, we're the real Tuscany in here. Well maybe not my manager Rian but we give him a pass, because if he wasn't working for us he'd prob'ly be in the, whaddyacallit? The bug house." He barks out a laugh as a shorter man, most likely Rian, comes from the back with a sheet of paper and stares Anthony down. 

There is a moment of silence and then a smirk and shaking of the head. "I gotcha marching orders, Tony, mate, and ya can't say nuttin bout me, you'd be there too." Rian's lilt contrasts to the round sound of Anthony's tone, and yet in effusive fashion he grabs Rian round the neck and kisses the top of his head. 

"Love ya. Okay, now we've got some actual customers in here, and they're friends of my buddy John, so they're alright, eh?" Anthony raises his head to see John's immediate nod. "So go get some towels. Get Laz out here to seat them and I have a feeling they'll be using our taps."

Roger is no longer sizing up Anthony as the owner points at him directly and says "Got a feeling this man could use a good beer."

"Bring down the wine, darling, I've heard you stand out in that," Freddie tosses his head and smiles as Rian comes round out of the back with a passel of fluffy towels he hands out. 

"Thank you," Brian says quietly, and John nods as Roger expels a grunt before rapidly roughing up and so drying his long blond hair. Freddie and John take turns drying each other, Freddie smiling into John's face as he runs the towel up and down the bassist's back.

"Cha, don't mention it," Rian says as John looks at him over Freddie's shoulder. "We got a dryer in th' back if towels don't work f'r ya," Rian says to John, who accepts the last towel from him with his own softly-uttered thanks. 

Rian nods to all the band and turns with an abrupt piercing whistle and a wave to a stocky, heavy sort who comes out from the back blinking. "Lazlo, c'mon there, let's seat these lovely customers, yeah?" Lazlo, with a sharp and suspicious gaze worthy of Roger, far less expressive than his boss or manager, grunts and looks the four men up and down. 

Rian goes back talking behind the bar to a young woman who has just appeared to expertly fill glasses "And a pitcher, those boys look like they need it" with all efficiency, even with Lazlo's suspect stare, they end at a cushioned booth with deep red napkins and enough towels to have soaked up the worst of the rainwater, leaving them only slightly damp.

Brian shivers a bit, still mostly cold, and as Roger automatically moves closer and John offers his mostly-dry towel, Rian hears something from Lazlo and calls back to Anthony, who yells "Sure! I'll turn up the heat, need some real fire to roast the dough anyway! You guys sit tight and tell Laz and Kristen whatever you need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of John, as he's so quiet and not much about fame (heard he took the tube for an entire year once and no one recognised him as a member of Queen), having a place he oftentimes goes to alone, and the people there all adore him and have taken him in. Whether they know who he is or not is up to you as readers-- I have it as a couple of the workers do, but they're discreet, and Anthony (based on the owner of a pizzeria I frequent as well as on the family of my own Italian aunts) is a boisterous and genuine person. Might talk some crap but he sees his workers and loyal customers as family, and I hope I showed that here.
> 
> The flash-pan pizza is a real type, there is also another name for it, but it's a kind you put in the oven on incredibly high heat for less than five minutes to cook. It's honestly amazing and I highly recommend it. Our pizzeria touts all real ingredients from Tuscany too :) they even bring in specific tomatoes, which I didn't realise was a thing
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	5. Chapter 5

_Everybody's got --mixed feelings-- about the function and the form; everybody wants to deviate from the norm...._

Speakers on the ceiling quietly pipe out a song that Brian catches a few lyrics of, and thinks about the fact that when he and his bandmates go back to the flat, really it isn't theirs anymore, not the four of them. Only reason they'd all been there together today was they'd just gotten done with press work and prep for going into the studio. Which they'd all seen and Brian feels a tad apprehensive about; it's a dingy space in Montreux, which is beautiful --to Freddie especially, his particular warmth is elevated recently as they prepare. 

And Roger's ire over cutting off a gig is magnified by the fact that "we're fucking Queen, you wankers, not just some unrecognised student band anymore!" Haven't been like that for years, really; and somehow in this moment Brian misses it. Feels as if they're that young band again, raring for work and discovery, only now he wishes he had stopped and appreciated the simplicity of anonymity far more...

"Oi, Brian, Earth to Bri," Brian blinks and comes to focus as Roger's sharp elbow gouges his ribcage and that teasing sharp voice says "Hey mate, you still with us?" He gives a smile to Kristen, the bar girl who comes over with drinks for them all.

"I should hope so, you seem like you've a lot of interesting thoughts up there," she gestures from Brian's face to his hair. Indicative of his mind, surely, but of course Roger snorts into his drink and says "Oh yeah his hair holds loads of thoughts," and John bursts into a peal of laughter, that infectious giggling one can't help smiling at, or even joining in, even as it may be at one's expense.

Brian lifts his glass and murmurs "Thanks. That's it, cheers" and takes a pull, in response to which Freddie reaches out, rich dark brown gaze warm, and takes Brian's hand into both of his own, folding his fingers around Brian's. 

"Something's on your mind. What is it, Brimi darling?" Freddie's ever-sweet and sincere gentleness of spirit makes Bri relax.

Crinkles manifest at the outer corners of the tall guitarist's eyes as he squeezes Freddie's hand. Ever soul brothers, the two of them. John and Roger catch each other's eyes across the table and Roger rolls his, mouthing, which sends John into another spurt of giggles. They peter out however at the look on Brian's face, and even Roger stops messing about in order to nestle close.

Bri may be always thinking, and often his thoughts tend to be sad or dark, but the band values his mind and ruminations nonetheless. Because they value Brian and everything he is, all that he brings. 

So "Spit it out, Brian," Roger urges. 

John quietly motions for an appetiser to be brought by, please. With a jerk of his head at the driving and slanted rain obscuring everything out the window, the bassist deadpans "Now, can't say for certain, but I think we may be stuck in here for a bit."

"I dunno, mate, I don't think the hard shite is coming down for quite a while," Roger quips back, smacking his lips and raising an eyebrow.

This time all four of them dissolve into gales of giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The italicised lyrics are from a Rush song that came out in '81, it is entitled "Vital Signs". 
> 
> I'm trying for a quiet moment just before they're going into studio for _Hot Space_. So this is pre-Hot Space Era, if you will. 
> 
> *Roger re-words a line from an (in my opinion) amazing 1980 comedy film. Kudos to you if you can guess it
> 
> I have no knowledge of a gig being cut off in 1981 due to a storm, so this bit of the story is just my imagination running away with me ;P
> 
> Hope you're still enjoying this, comments are appreciated <3


	6. Chapter 6

It's late, Brian thinks, though the feeling steals away; it's late, but not too late...it can't be too late, can it? He flicks his eyes over each of his bandmates, John settling back into the booth across from Brian, sighing, attention focused on his beer until Bri decides to speak; Freddie, sweet Fred, whose eyes remain trained on Brian's features without abate save for blinking. He rubs the guitarist's knobbly hand with one warm thumb, and that skin is like honey, sweet and warm, a blanket that covers and warms Brian, making him ache to feel as though something is shifting; that things may soon change. Late, it's much too late! His own words shoot through Brian's head. You stare at me, suspicion in your eyes... You make me wonder... Brian squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, curls whispering against his collar and flopping onto his skin. Mostly dry now, as the heaters have been turned on, and though he shivers there's a bit of sweat between his shoulder blades. Brian gulps.

And then he feels a hand, strong and a trifle rough through his thin shirt with callouses, but fingertips skate up and down, gently rubbing, scratching Brian's skin, somehow in the perfect place to help him relax, well, as much as he ever can. Brian glances to his right, where Roger casually sits, leaning into him. Left arm resting behind Brian as casually as if he has no connection to what he is doing, but a miniscule glance up at Bri as he drinks lets the guitarist know that Rog is here for him in every sense of the word. 

So Brian swallows and clears his throat and asks "I was thinking about our earlier days, and. Well, do any of you lot miss the anonymity?"

"Yes," John says without hesitation, eyes glittering with some undefined emotion behind his glass as he gulps from it. "...But then when I'm out alone, or with Ronnie, I'm still anonymous. So I suppose I should say thanks for that," lifting the cup in a cheersing motion "--you with your height and your hair, Roger's whole look and falsetto, and Freddie...," John's lips twitch as the singer looks to him, that much-shorter haircut in full force as he settles his face in one of his hands, lips twitching over those wonderfully unique teeth. "You're just-- _you_ , Fred," John's eyes are wide. "That's, erm. You're magnificent, truly. Almost--magnetic, in fact." His tone of voice holds the same awe that transfixes audiences everywhere; and even Brian and Roger, were they to give half a mind to being transfixed. Brian especially, when Freddie goes up and down his Red, has to hold his guitar close and keep his wits about himself. 

But dear Freddie still blushes at the bassist's compliments, while Roger snorts and refills Deacy's glass from the pitcher Kristen had brought them ("Cheers, love," Rog purrs.) Brian looks to Freddie next, knowing shyness lingers there, under the bombastic performer every time. As the canvas holds the brightest paints --sturdy, silent, unassuming; the guitarist now reflected. He knows little of art, save to enjoy some of it, much of it, and to want to photograph beautiful things. But he thinks there is something of Freddie that is thus like Deaks, and is not wholly surprised by Fred's response.

"I dearly love the crowds we have, our fans have oodles of energy and excitement," Freddie smiles, his eyes twinkling. "How they love us! But, yes, it's something to have a life that's your own, to walk down the street without everyone bloody watching you."

"...They watched you already, Freddie," Roger puts in. "How could people not, with your charisma and your look? I know for a fact people came to our clothes stall just because they'd been having a gander at you, mate."

Freddie clucks. "Oh, they were certainly looking at you, my ever-exuberant flashy darling." He reaches out and touches the slope of Roger's nose, stroking his finger along.

The blond grins, waggles his eyebrows and flicks his tongue, a slight blush colouring his cheeks --unless Brian is imagining it. "Damn right, we were both a bloody catch," he says. Still running his hand up and down Brian's back, the drummer grows serious. "Still are, though. I dunno, mates. I love this, really. I do. This band, it's my life, and I'm chuffed we're finally getting recognition--deserved recognition too, I might add!" He thumps his now-free right hand onto the table. "We've been working at this shite for long enough." 

"...I know," Brian sighs a little, leaning in. "It's especially fun for you, Roger. I just wonder what's in store for us now, and I-- well, find myself feeling a fondness for former days."

"Former days?" Roger sighs explosively. "Ah, Bri, y'do that and you're gonna go round being disappointed because we can't go back, mate." He beckons now to Lazlo. "I for one look forward to the future because in the next fifteen minutes I guarantee we will taste some fabulous pizza, is that right Deaks?" He asks the bassist.

John nods, flashing his gapped teeth. "That's right. Well, at least I think so, Rog."

"I'm famished," puts in Freddie, rubbing his hands together. "Your feelings about food have transferred over, Roger."

"See, Brian?" Roger grins, patting the other's back a final time before asking Lazlo for a menu. "...Got to get excited about what's to come, or you'll risk never having a ruddy good time!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Brian is a thinker, and I have him mulling over lines from the song "It's Late" that he wrote for the '77 _News of the World_ album.
> 
> I hope my ideas of how the boys feel about their fame are respectful, from interviews as well as performance videos I've gathered that Freddie loved their fans but did his best to live a private life; John's always been private, Brian thinks a lot about their past and present, and Roger finds it all fun. What do you think?
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	7. Chapter 7

"Speaking of good times...," Roger crooks his finger at Lazlo, whose face has grown less apparently suspicious of the group, but he appears no more inclined to smile or appear friendly towards any of them. He does come over to the drummer though, and looks as Roger flicks his fingers at Brian beside him. "So my mate's vegetarian, you got any good pies f' that?"

"Roger, it's alright," Brian protests. "I can eat a salad, there seems to be one here with gorgonzola and artichoke hearts..."

Roger shakes his head as Lazlo lifts his gaze to Brian and then looks back at Rog. "Seriously, you got something?" 

"I see something here with vegetables, Liz," Freddie leans across the table to point it out.

Roger nods vigorously. "Yeah, we'll take that one. A Carnivora, and -- what d'you want John?"

"Let's get two salads and. A, erm, Margharita pie," says John softly, nodding as he passes his menu and Fred's.

"Keep those drinks coming too," Roger makes a face and indicates both Brian and John. A muscle twitches in Lazlo's cheek and he nods, taking the menus and heading back towards the kitchen.

"Now that man is an open book," cracks Rog. And then "Shut it, Brian, I know you're about to say something, but you've got to eat too."

"Something sustaining, 'specially in this," an enormous gust of wind sends something past the window, there is an incredible crackling _BANG_ and hissing. The fire shoots up in the pizza oven as all of the electric lights go out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now the food order has gone back, that's when the power goes out, oh boy
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	8. Chapter 8

It is not only Roger's voice that rises hurling epithets at this moment-- Anthony's piercing shout to Rian roars from the near-silence of the back, and movement towards a window precedes crashing glasses and Freddie murmuring "That's certainly one sort of staying power, darling."

"...Or lack thereof," Brian says. His hand has clenched and automatically he throws it out onto the table, heart hammering against his ribs. Desperately trying to believe this means nothing, has naught to do with his thoughts, it's but the force and fierceness of the storm. Don't be melodramatic, Brian; he hears those words in his head as if Roger had said them, though all he sees of Rog at present is a glint of golden hair beside him. Along with the flickering of his friend's ever-present cigarette lighter, held out like a beacon aloft. 

"You alright Bri, Freddie? Deaks?" 

Brian expels air and feels a warm grasp around his hand before John's steady soft voice states "We're alright, this is just brown power. Transformer blew outside." The leaden sky provides a bit of light to illume John's wiry silhouette, the side of his face by his nose almost glowing. He shifts into shadow, squeezes Brian's hand and then offers "Budge up a moment, Fred. I'll see if I can work the generator." Freddie stands, there's the sound of it, rustling of Fred's shirt of brocade cloth; Roger still holding his lighter, providing a warm ruddy glow that gleams in John's eyes as he looks back to Brian whilst he moves, their hands still clasped, interlocked. "It's alright, Bri," John reiterates softly. "'S going to be. You believe me?"

Brian gulps and nods as he feels Roger take ahold of his shoulder and hold on. "Yeah, I-- yes, Deacy, I do," the guitarist responds. John nods and lets his hand go then. Freddie crows at him as Roger leans out the booth to slap him on the bum, all cheek and pride for his Deacy; don't count out the rhythm section, especially not this particular bassist with his particular sort of skills--

John heads back through the parlour, carefully navigating between chairs and tables. The boys hear him ask Lazlo if Anthony has a generator, out back, perhaps? An affirmation precedes the owner's loud voice calling over as the kitchen doors open to lead John into the back. The words "I went to school for electrical engineering" are exchanged with "Say no more, c'mon, you get our generator working and your pizzas are on the house!" 

Roger, shifting back ino the booth and taking out an actual cigarette --what the hell, he's already got his light-- leans forward, his teeth glinting in a big cheeky smile as he looks from Brian to Freddie. "Well, as it's dark now, what're we going to get up to?"

Freddie laughs. "Oh I have several suggestions...,"

Brian groans. "Please, Fred, I'm not nearly drunk enough for any of this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's university degree is going to be put to excellent use! And of course Roger and Freddie are going to make naughty suggestions, haha. Sweet long-suffering Brian ;P
> 
> Pizza will still be coming, luckily the ovens don't run on electrical power


	9. Chapter 9

John is ushered back by Rian to an area behind the kitchen, the rain on which sounds like a whole troupe of tap-dancers doing a show on a tin roof. Chill wind is blowing in, and John rubs his hands together as the pizzeria manager shows him to the old generator. John looks it over, eyes flickering.over the connections and the breaker nearby. He looks at Rian. "I could use a pair of insulating work gloves, if you have them," he says.

Checking the top of the system where there are two valves, intake and exhaust -- John looks and spies a pair of hoses, trails down to their extension and finds gas cans. "Got any petrol?" He asks, and Rian calls over to Anthony, whose response is along the lines of yes, they should.

And then the fire roars up preceding a call of "Order up!" Kristen's voice produces a slight almost-shriek. 

John hears a quiet "I can help you with that, if you'd like."

"Oh, thank you," Kristen's voice goes a little breathless. Clearly Brian's eyes have adjusted to the darkness. 

John hears Roger calling "Oi Bri, you gonna chat all night or get our pizzas over here?" 

"Ah love, let them talk," Freddie's gentle voice coos back.

John clangs round behind the empty gas cans til he hears a tapping and "Here," Rian comes back around the side door from the kitchen whereto he had walked after the initial query about petrol, holding out a red gasoline jug as well as a pair of gloves. 

"Thank you," John shucks them on and looks up at the manager, who nods, eyes containing a hint of sparkle within. 

"Sure," relinquishing the jug for John to unscrew and pour petrol into both generator cans, the manager continues "Pretty rocking, what you do, y'know. Takes a skill to be bassist in a band AND graduate from University." The words are a shock to John, as he honestly hadn't comprehended any of these folks might know him from Queen. He was just a customer at their pizza parlour.

"Suma cum laude!" A crow of familiar exuberance emanates from behind Rian at the main door back into the restaurant. Fluffy blond hair and sparkling blue eyes precede Roger's bouncing form in his entirety, slice of pizza in hand. "Brilliant, he is. So's this pizza," Roger's cheeks are bulging, full as he chews and swallows, putting down a plate holding a second slice of pizza. Wipes his mouth on one sleeve and sighs-- in satisfaction this time. No more furious hungry swearing. "Brought a piece 'a your pie over, John," Roger offers now, walking up and bending to watch the bassist at work. "Need any help, mate?"

"Thanks, Rog," John says, screwing the petrol tubes and flipping up the generator switch after checking its intake. The generator comes to life and John casually takes off his gloves. "But think I've got it. There, it's working now."

Words precede the resurgence of fans starting in the back and Anthony cheering in ecstatic Italian. "ATTABOY, JOHNNY!" He adds.

Roger beams and claps both hands onto John's shoulders, rubbing them in congratulation.

"Well, done, Deacy dearest," Freddie's voice floats back as John stands up, dusting off the knees of his trousers.

"Oh thank goodness," Brian mutters. 

Roger is bouncing behind John, still holding his shoulders as the bassist checks the generator whilst standing and then steps back into the main room again to have his hand vigorously pumped by Anthony. Kristen squeals in excitement this time as she first hugs Brian around the neck and then flies at John. He staggers back and is braced by Roger. 

"Well we're good in here on heat and supplies," Rian says. 

"Food and drinks on the house," Anthony says, still effusive, beaming at John, who can't quite look back into his eyes. John rubs the back of his neck.

"Oh, you really don't--"

"I was just doing something I know," Deaks says. "It's alright, just glad I could help."

"Ah c'mon Deacy," wheedles Rog. "If the man wants to do this for your help,"

"Roger, it's fine," John turns to him. "I was here. We were here. It's my--" the bassist bites his lip. He had been ready to say it was his job, but it isn't, not really. It's what he wanted to do in school, what still gives him a sense of purpose. 

Roger's head draws back and he lowers his chin, seeing something in his bassist's eyes that John does not voice. Whatever he sees, he drops the issue. Brian's eyebrows go up in surprise. It isn't typical of Roger to drop any issue. Yet he has. 

"Right, well. Let's allow John to eat, yeah?" Brian extends an arm, beckoning to John with a little smile, light from the bulbs illuminating the tiniest change in facial expression. John looks back at Brian as he walks past him, Bri's long hand wrapping around the bassist's shoulder.

Roger watches the others go, seeing Freddie beam and hold out both hands. He claps his hands and whoops, running across the floor after Brian and John.

"What's with the quiet, eh?! Oughta turn up that music!" Pressing his face against a window, "We're gonna be in here a while longer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The type of generator I described is an OHV - overhead valve engine, which has the two valves on the top. Smaller generators use gasoline and such a system as this is compact, emits less harmful emissions, and is user-friendly.  
> I am not even remotely close to an electrical engineer, but my father is, and so I tried.
> 
> *Good ol' John did actually graduate the way Roger said, as I heard in an interview wherein Roger talked about Brian and John's work in school. He seems very proud of them both.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying, as of now there is one more chapter, comments appreciated <3


	10. Chapter 10

Volume of the music goes right up, a strong guitar and the crashing of drums precedes a singular voice that makes Roger run and grab Freddie so they can jump up and sing along together:

_"Friday night I crashed your party, Saturday I said I'm sorry --Sunday came and trashed me out againnnn... I was only having fun, wasn't hurting anyone, and we all enjoyed the weekend for a change!"_

Roger flings his arms out and looks round at them all, as if daring anyone to contradict that statement, sung at the top of his lungs. No one does, Brian offers a smile and John is currently chewing his pizza so lifts the refilled glass from beside his plate instead. 

Fred of course puts his spin on the next verse, which infuses a sultry conversational aspect to the words: 

_"I've been stranded in the combat zone, I walked through Bedford Stuy alone --even rode my motorcycle in the rain. And you told me not to drive, but I made it home alive, so you said that only proves that I'm insannnne! You may be right! I may be crazy, buuuut it just may be a luuuunatic you're looking for! Turn out the lights, don't try to save me-- you may be wrong, ah, for all I know, but you may be right!"_

Head-banging to the guitar parts and bulging his eyes, Roger says "You'd definitely put a solo in this, Brian."

Listening to the lyrics about telling dirty jokes until one smiles "We could have written this song, my loves," Freddie and Roger whirl around holding one another's hands, Rog kicking out his legs and bouncing in the fashion of his own dramatic dance (after Kristen and Lazlo pull out some tables and chairs to make room for a sort of dance floor). Anthony comes to the front whilst Rian does a last bit with the oven, checks on the generator, and sits down, letting out a piercing whistle. 

"We like ol' Bill, gives a good name to the heritage," the pizzeria owner says, only having to justify himself to Rian:

"How you know that Billy Joel's Italian? Get on,"

"What, you want to keep him for the United Kingdom?"

"... He's American."

"I'm talking about ancestry, fa, I mean listen to him, the way he fights and sings and loves, he's Italian!" Anthony kisses his own fingertips and gestures, a perfect chef's kiss. Rian only shakes his head, and the Queen members wonder if this is the way their own arguments sound to others.

John finishes his pizza and comes shimmying out of the booth "Let's go Deaks, c'mon and show us up," Roger says, with warmth and pride in his face. Deacy never seems uncomfortable when he dances, it's as if he's in his own little musical world, enjoying everything about life. Freddie flings his head back and does his own thing, and Roger keeps on despite the giggling from John. Only Brian stands by, arms loosely folded, smiling and nodding along but not dancing.

Not until a softer song starts playing and there's wheedling.

"C'mon Brian, I know you know ballroom."

"Just a box step, mate."

"You can do it."

"No, I--honestly, I can't." 

"Who's looking at you? Who's judging, nobody here," pointing as well as Roger's glare dissuade any possibility of judgement. "Come on, Bri!" The blond takes his tall friend by the hands. "If I'm dancing, everyone's busy judging me."

Brian laughs. "You said it," he replies.

In faux-offence, Roger gasps. "Oh piss off," but he beams. Shifting himself and helping Brian move side to side he starts them, and "Here, Deacy, take over for me," hands off to John, who steps in and gives Brian a smile before lifting Bri's hand to drape it over his shoulder.

"Other hand at my waist, here," John murmurs, "And it's a forward, side, back, side step. Little boxes, Brian. That's it." He smiles hugely as Brian shifts his arm so his hand presses John's upper back, over his shoulder blades, and they keep dancing. Bri bites his lips and looks down but John whispers for him to "Look at me, that's better, Bri." 

"John knows what he's dooooing," Roger trills.

Freddie joins in "And he'll be dooooing alright!"

Brian shakes his head at the others, but does raise his eyes to those grey-green ones, crinkled with ever-quiet kindness. Something else shines a moment in the depths of John's eyes, and Bri feels a clenching in his stomach; wonders somehow if they will always be so quietly in-sync. But his brain pushes the feeling out, for once, as he takes John's hand and spins him, seeing the shocked delight on the bassist's expressive face and hearing Roger whistle as Freddie claps, the two leaning into each other, cheek to cheek, big grins on their faces as they watch John and Brian. 

The owner and workers in the parlour call and whoop and they all dance too, in this bubble of light and warmth, content as outside the rain pours down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always loved dancing and John helping Brian because he's said before he is not a dancer, it means a lot to me
> 
> *Lyrics from "You May Be Right" by Billy Joel and Rog and Fred do a bit of "Doing Alright" together
> 
> I figure the rain will cease eventually, but Anthony and company are happy to let Queen stay as long as they like. I also have no idea of Billy Joel's ancestry, he is American and that's all I know :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this, comments are appreciated always <3


End file.
